


The Master of Puppets

by DramioneInLove



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Canon Compliant, Claimed Prompt, Disfunctional relationship, Dysfuncentine 2014 Livejournal, F/F, First Wizarding War Era, Manipulative!Narcissa, Mentions of Violence, Mind Games, One Shot, Profanity, Rarepair, Unrequited Love, Wartime Fic, canon character death, epilogue compliant, femmeslash, manipulative!lily, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 03:38:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14252223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DramioneInLove/pseuds/DramioneInLove
Summary: Narcissa is cunning, sly, and able to manipulate everyone and everything, up to the Dark Lord himself. She is the Master of Puppets. Or so she thinks...for can the true Master be outmastered?





	The Master of Puppets

**Author's Note:**

> This was my submission for the Dysfuncentine Fest on LiveJournal waaay back in 2014. I've had it published since then on Fanfiction.net, but I'm slowly but surely bringing my works over here as well to benefit a double platform. Please ignore any spelling mistakes or grammatical errors- it was a while ago. Hope you'll like it.

Narcissa thought that she had the situation in her beautiful, pale, aristocratic hands from the beginning to the end. After all, she had spent her Hogwarts years in Slytherin House. She was a daughter of the Noble House of Black. And she was married, quite unhappily, to one Lucius Malfoy, the lord of all things twisted.

She had never been so wrong.

And the only thing to cause her such harm was a head shorter than her, had beautiful red locks, and mesmerizing emerald green eyes.

Narcissa Malfoy née Black had never been manipulated before, or since for that matter. She was always one step ahead of her opponents and allies likewise, always plotting, scheming and thinking about ways to get the Minister in her family's pocket, or how to make the nice and plenty pieces of Malfoy gold to multiply further still.

She had been a cunning, sly child, like her two sisters, only Narcissa had this quiet side to her. She might seem shy, but woe upon the person who may have actually gotten that into their head. Bellatrix showed signs of great madness since a young age, and Andromeda was a cool-going girl who cared little of them. Narcissa was probably the smartest of the bunch.

However, once and once only had the Pureblood witch let her heart rule over her brains, and that had been catastrophic.

Narcissa was a few years older than Lily Evans, the pretty, clever little Gryffindor Mudblood. She may have glimpsed at the kid once or twice during her last two school years, but that was it. To tell the truth, Narcissa had been surprised learning that the girl was not one of those Weasley children, who seemed to multiply by the dozen, like Arthur or his brothers.

Narcissa had graduated with good marks and had married soon after a deceiving Lucius Malfoy. The man was well-suited to his cold spouse on the public scene, but when the curtains were down, he proved to be a violent, uncaring man. The first few times he'd forced his sorry self upon her she'd screamed and wailed and cried for pity. After that, she'd remembered who exactly she was and had adjusted to the vile situation by constantly trying to avoid her husband. It worked more often than not, and when she'd discovered that he had taken a mistress or two to the side, she breathed better. Though she proved a loyal wife and a supporter of her husband's beliefs, she never got herself to like the man.

Voldemort had rosen from the mist of foreign countries. He spoke the languages of snakes and toyed with such powerful magic that one could only fall to one's knees and hail him. Narcissa admired the wizard, respected and feared him, but she was a tad more clever than Bellatrix, her dear sister, or Lucius. The last two, along with a whole bunch of eager followers, grovelled in front of the Dark Lord and begged to receive his newly found Mark. She did not. Narcissa knew that war was to ensue, and if ever, though it was quite unlikely, Voldemort did not win, she held no wish to be sentenced for heinous crimes and sent to the Dementors in Azkaban. Besides, though Narcissa thought that all the lesser beings were to be wiped from the world in the Dark Lord's midst, she had no intent upon soaking her own pretty hands in the blood, thank you very much. She would if she was ordered to, but she preferred not.

Narcissa played coy and she won her bet. She thanked the Dark Lord's proposal for her to join his forces, but announced that she well intended upon remaining an eminent Pureblood's wife for the time being, and that anyway, Lucius and herself were trying to have a son to carry on the name. While this was only partly true, Lucius backed her on it. Pureblood, good stock wives were like water in the desert and if he lost Narcissa, he didn't quite know where he would get another, if ever Narcissa died in war.

On the other side, Narcissa gave Lucius clever information and council upon what he needed to do to please their leader and master. He followed her clever advice willingly, and soon found himself conveying for favoriteship with Bellatrix, who Narcissa was advising in secret too. Never place all your eggs in the same basket.

War broke out indeed, and it was bloody, and deadly, and glorious. And in that atmosphere, Narcissa met, for the first time since the few glances in school, one Lily Evans.

The girl was barely out of Hogwarts, and the first time Narcissa saw her, she was breathtaken.

She had been to see Severus Snape, their friend, who was in love with the girl in secret, and was a Death Eater as well. Narcissa Apparated near Spinner's End and hurried through the Muggle town, her cloaks kept against her body.

Severus greeted her well. He was known as a good potion maker, planning to turn master. They'd sat and talked and sipped wine, and discussed potions a little. Severus insisted she took a glance at a fecondity potion he was creating, and gestured to one of the books on the shelf. She stood and glided over to the journal that she thumbed out of the aisle before sitting down again, reading through the book curiously. Suddenly, a thick piece of paper slid out of between two pages, and she glanced at it, recognizing without interest a wizarding photography, and...

She stopped, breathtaken. Although the photo was black and white, it was the prettiest shot she'd ever seen, and the girl upon it was magnificent. Stunning.

The girl was laughing in the face of the camera, a thick scarf fit snugly around her slender neck, and her cheeks seemed tinged pink from her laughing fit. She had a perfect, flawless face, and her plump lips opened upon a range of pearly white teeth. Normally, Narcissa would have thought the chit's uncontrollable laughing very unladylike. However, she only found this...contagious. She almost wanted to grin stupidly back.

It was so unlike herself that Narcissa was taken aback. Narcissa never giggled, or laughed like she was coughing up a whale bone, or grinned madly. She smirked, sneered and raised an amused eyebrow. That was the extent of her exterior signs of amusement. However, when Severus stepped back inside the room with another bottle of wine, she asked,

“Severus. Who is this girl, by Merlin?”

Severus stared at the Malfoy lady, at her flushed cheeks, her heated gaze and her trembling fingers, and he knew it was exactly what it was. Narcissa Malfoy, the cold, composed young woman, was aroused. He almost choked on his own spittle.

He blanched upon seeing Lily's photo in her hands.

“She's, er, nothing. No-one. I mean...”

“A love interest of yours?” asked calmly Narcissa, though her eyes held a dangerous glint.

Severus sighed.

“No. Not any more. I...liked her, before discovering she was a Mudblood and she joined the other side during war.”

The words hit Narcissa like a ton of bricks. This beautiful little thing was a Mudblood? What a shame. Oh, Narcissa knew that Mudbloods and Muggles alike were by no means ugly, or stupid by nature. She knew that the best and the worst in looks and intelligence came among them. That is what made them all the more dangerous, the filthy lot of them.

Without uttering a word, Narcissa stood, letting the photo float out of her grasp, and fled.

.

Narcissa was horrified and terrified to find out her attraction to women, worse, to the Mudblood she'd been seeing in Severus' photo. However, after bringing herself several times to her peak and over with her own fingers, a dazzling smile and bright with mirth eyes in front of her mind, she couldn't deny it any more.

What if Lucius learned of this? Scratch that. What if the Dark Lord learned of this? She would have a death order immediately released against her. Narcissa's Occlumency barriers were strong though. It would just have to do. She couldn't do any more and anyway, when her stomach clenched, when her heart soar, only thinking about one stupid photo, she didn't know if she really cared. It was silly really, of course she cared if her life was forfeit, but still.

This was Narcissa's hidden garden, her forbidden fruit, her bittersweet secret, her deepest, most hidden desire.

So how could she be to blame if, for once, she let go? How could she even try resisting if ever the forbidden fruit came to her?

Because the Heavens heard Narcissa's daily, unspoken prayer, and brought the fruit right under her nose.

.

The fruit turned out to be innocent, carefree, and sweet. Perfect manipulation stock, though at first, Narcissa didn't really care about that. She cared only about breaking the rules, being the perfect Pureblood with one dirty secret, and she cared about her release.

She was in Diagon Alley, when someone, hurrying opposite her, bumped into her. Narcissa's icy features turned down into a snarl, and she wiped her pearl grey robes viciously:

“Watch where you are going, you piece of filth!”

The young woman stuttered an apology, glancing up at Narcissa through shy eyelashes, and the older woman's heart stopped for a couple of beats.

She would have recognized that face anywhere, even though she had only seen it before in black and white. She was even more beautiful truly, with her wide emerald eyes that shone with an innocent light that Narcissa desired so to corrupt, and her mane of silky, red hair atop her nearly perfect features. The blond witch with cold light grey eyes stared at the young woman, barely out of her teenage years, and something struck deep inside Narcissa. It was more than lust.

“I'm sorry,” stammered the redhead, though a glint of insolence shone through her eyes. “I'm really sorry. Can I help you?”

Narcissa stopped staring, her mind turning at miles per hour, wondering how to get the divine child into her bed.

“Well,” sniffed Narcissa coldly. “I suppose you can buy me a cup of tea, after all.”

The girl seemed surprised, but finally flashed Narcissa a brilliant smile showing off her pearly white teeth:

“With pleasure. By the way...I'm Lily Evans.”

.

It hadn't been that hard to get the girl to agree to another rendez-vous, though Lily seemed truly worried about seeing Narcissa again. Narcissa, however, painted herself cleverly as the white lamb in the house of darkness with no way out. Lily pitied her. For once, Narcissa didn't care: the girl could pity her all she wanted, as long as she finished writhing in pleasure under the blonde's lithe body. The fact that Narcissa could show some interest to the naïve little thing made Lily sure that the woman actually had no prejudice against those of lesser blood. Nothing could have been more far from the truth, but despite her need of Lily, Narcissa felt the inner urge to manipulate. One was never too careful, after all.

And Lily didn't know what Narcissa really wanted of her. She was thinking of friendship, while Narcissa's dark, dark mind involved the fiery redhead tied to her bed. Narcissa decided that the girl was too innocent to play mind games, so she wouldn't tell Lily anything about her lust and her intentions, and simply lure Lily into the bigger thing, and who cared if the redhead didn't understand really? Now Narcissa knew that Lily was no fool, and had heard of homosexuality, but she didn't want to risk the chit reject her. So she'd trap her, simple as that.

Narcissa's own intelligence stunned even herself sometimes. She was the Master Puppet, and the girl was merely her most attractive toy.

And Lily, like Lucius, Bellatrix or even Voldemort had, would fall into the web of Narcissa's cunning.

.

Meeting after meeting with the lively redhead had Narcissa slowly come up with her foolproof plan. She considered carefully the pros and cons, admitted every flaw and came up with several second plans to counter those. That meant that in weeks, endless possibilities added up in the clever woman's head. No-one could try to best Narcissa Malfoy.

She egged their relationship up to more intimate levels: the patting of the hand, the sisterly peck on the cheek, the brief hug when good news came, and the name-calling: dear, darling, honey, my friend. Lily reddened brightly to these attentions, but still would encourage them. Narcissa knew that the girl thought she had Narcissa in her pocket. Well, let her believe just that.

That special day, Narcissa was cool and collected as ever. She entered the café, met with her little Mudblood, and they sipped tea and talked gladly. Then, when time was to leave, Narcissa stood a little too quickly, cried out in pain, and fell to the ground, out cold. Lily hovered worriedly around her, and finally stopped panicking, called the waitress, and levitated her friend to one of the rooms rented above the café for a few sickles. She lay Narcissa on the bed and the witch came to, moaning and clutching her womb, hiding a smirk.

Lily insisted that she was hurt, and Narcissa played a very clever, very convincing game, not wanting to let her near, then sighing tearily, then insisting no, then but I thought I was in love with the cruel bastard, then sprung a few tears, then wiped her face and decided that she would go home. And Lily, being the kind, weak, silly little girl she was, almost strapped her down to keep her still, undressed her, and stared, wide-eyed, at the numerous bruises on Narcissa's arms, ribcage, thighs and wrists, horrified.

“Who?” she gasped in sorrow, trailing a mindless finger down Narcissa's stomach that made it clench with lust. “Is it...is this...your husband?”

“Men,” spat Narcissa, “are feral beasts. Lucius is only an example.”

She'd needed the bruises to help her seduce the girl, and thankfully, Lucius was a natural violent when drunk. She'd only needed to rile him up a bit. The sick pig was probably still passed out in some wench's arms or behind a sofa or something, snoring his hangover off.

“I'll heal you, Cissy,” offered softly Lily, picking up her wand and trailing it up and down her damaged skin. “How dare he.”

As the redhead passed a hand, innocent and unconscious, over Narcissa's thighs, the witch let out a calculated low moan and rolled her eyes back in her head.

“Did I hurt you?” asked instantly the Mudblood, eyes widening. “I'm so sorry!”

“No,” replied Narcissa, eyeing the girl in hungered, no, famished, intent. “Quite the contrary, actually.”

Lily shot her a surprised glance, but applied her innocent fingers back to Narcissa's thigh, letting her fingers slide down to her inner thigh. Narcissa let out a stifled gasp and bucked up into her touch. Lily's hands hovered as she looked totally confused at the witch.

“You're having this coming,” warned Narcissa.

Of course, her innocent prey didn't understand the innuendo underneath the words, and simply slid her fingers back underneath Narcissa's thigh to get to another bruise. Narcissa let herself smirk in secret for a second before sitting up abruptly, pulling her Mudblood to her, and crushing her lips against hers.

They made love. Well, it resembled that somehow. All the while, Narcissa was in care. As she unhooked the girl's plain white knickers. As she guided Lily to orgasm with deft fingers and pert tongue. While one palm rubbed against a breast, and the other probed at her secret hole. While she lost herself in the Mudblood's virginal embrace and clumsy attempts. Narcissa's cold, calculating eyes never left Lily's face as she rubbed her own aching core against the redhead's thigh, nor when her tongue licked its way up her slit.

Lily was red and confused and, though curious and into the game, awfully embarrassed. If Narcissa hadn't been who she was, the Master Puppet, she would have thought the chit endearing.

Of course, Narcissa noticed at the end of their play that all the pleasure had been for Lily, and that the woman must pay her back sometime. Lily nodded, dazed and a bit sheepish, and Narcissa let her go, a shark smile tugging at her lips.

.

It became an affair. It became regular. It became addicting. It became far too much.

Narcissa loved and hated it, because she loved and hated Lily and herself. She loved having sex with her partner who became bolder each time, and she hated everything else that it pertained.

She hated that she had less power over her mistress.

She hated that she hesitated to take the girl without a second thought.

She hated that she wasn't in total control anymore.

And she especially hated that she had fallen in love with the innocent, annoying redhead.

.

When Voldemort fell, victim of a mere child, world rippled around the country like hellfire.

James and Lily Potter were dead, sacrifying themselves, and only a year-old son, named Harry Potter, had survived the Dark Lord's avenge, and had destroyed, as it seemed, the evil wizard. Narcissa did not care. She did not know the Potter family nor care for them, though she was as curious as the others as to why an infant may have killed a terrible madman. She didn't think much about Lily for a few weeks, either, for two reasons. The first was that she had a son, a little angel named Draco, the apple of his mother's eye, aside from Lily of course, who was a year old now. The second was that she must help her poor excuse of a husband to escape what was to fall on his shoulders because of his affiliations with Voldemort, and again, she did it brilliantly.

Only then did she learn the truth.

The truth came like a blade to the heart. And it came with a Ministry Officer who had handed her a letter from the deceased Mrs Potter for her. She unrolled it with a strange feeling to her stomach.

 

_Dear Cissy..._

 

_...Or should I call you Narcissa? Really, I am glad that you are reading this, because if so, it means that Lord Voldemort...do not cringe upon reading your idole's name...has found us and killed us. Not that I am happy to be dead, of course...but as you see, Narcissa, that also means that I am free from your disgusting, prejudiced, pathetic grasp._

_I admit that when the Order of the Phoenix first asked me to carry out the delicate mission to seduce you, I was furious, to say the least. As were my friends. But we had been informed by a spy that you muttered about me in your sleep...as it turned out, it really was me you were thinking about, wasn't it? You soon proved that inviting me to tea, when I bumped into you on purpose in Diagon Alley to test out the theory and put the mission in place._

_It worked out better than we ever thought it could, Narcissa, thanks to you. You think you are so cunning, ready to play on each side at a time, but the truth is, you simply can't keep up with it. It was so easy to play the innocent virgin with you, pretending not to know where is point A and where stands point B, and playing the silly, naïve little Mudblood. We had so much fun on your behalf. When you fell asleep next to me, every time, I would simply sift through your sleeping head and pick the information I needed about the Dark side. It was easier than I'd ever dreamed of...you were so full of yourself and your power over me that you even forgot to put up basic barriers around your thoughts. Too bad I excell at Legilimency, though. The effort really was lost on you._

_I was almost pissing myself, sorry for the language, about your stupidity. You were so used to have your dear sister and your idiot husband raking for your advice that you even forgot I was the enemy. I had a fit of laughter the first time I realised, while examining your thoughts as you slept, naked and pale and ugly, that you actually compare yourself to a Master of Puppets. I even had to go take a cold shower to cut off my hilarity at that one. So, how does it feel, Narcissa? I'm not even speaking about how betrayed you might feel, because I never betrayed you. War is war, and my loyalties have always lied elsewhere than at your side. No, Narcissa, I am wondering how it feels to_ _believe yourself in total control and able to manipulate me, only to find out that in the end, you were totally, completely and helplessly owned by your Mudblood lover who secretly hates you to death?_

_I shall not wish you good luck, Cissy, because all I really want is that you return to be clobbered by your husband and bullied by your sister. That should be enough payback for all the damage I resented from being in your arms. But, hey, after all...it was for the greater good, wasn't it?_

 

_Lily Potter née Evans_

 

_PS. My husband of now three years, that I married and loved well before even meeting you, wishes you the worst, and reminds me that our son, Harry, shall be in the same year in Hogwarts as your own brat Draco. I expect fully Harry to kick his sorry arse. The circle would thus be completed, right?_

 

.

And so, the one foolish enough to believe oneself Master of Puppets is little more, indeed, than a puppet to the true Master, the one who can manipulate the play since the shadows.

Narcissa Malfoy swore that she would never, ever be manipulated like that again. And she kept to her word, hiding her broken heart to the world until the end.

And if one thing, one single thing, ever, reminded the world of her unfortunate ordeal with Lily Potter, it was when Narcissa, sixteen years later, stood in a forest, and slowly turned back to face her Lord, the hint of glimmering, beloved, well-known emerald eyes burned upon her retina, and whispered into the night,

“Dead.”

.

FIN

 


End file.
